


Some Justice

by athousandwinds



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athousandwinds/pseuds/athousandwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long drop and a short stop and Carcer's always got a plan. Pity it doesn't work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nagia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/gifts).



"That took a bit longer than I thought it would," said Carcer.

He stood up and climbed out of the trapdoor. He passed through his dangling corpse and enjoyed the sensation so much he did it again. From the gallows you got a great seat, he thought. It was a pity you couldn't enjoy it when you were alive.

"Look, there's Vimesy," he observed to the shadowy presence behind him. "Oops, _no_ , Sergeant _Keel_ , was it? I bet he's having a good day, the old bastard."

HE DOES SEEM PLEASED.

"Look at him lighting up that cigar," Carcer said. "That'll kill him, you know."

NO. IT WON'T.

"There ought to be a law," Carcer said. "He smoked all the way through my interrogation. I could've got passive cancer."

PRESUMABLY HE THOUGHT IT WOULDN'T MATTER.

"Police brutality," Carcer said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "You wouldn't believe the amount of times I fell down the stairs to the cells. There's only two steps."

YOU THINK THEY SHOULD HAVE MORE ORIGINAL EXCUSES?

"That's what hurt most, really," said Carcer. "That they just didn't _care_ enough."

He paused, contemplating the unfairness of the universe. He was not the first. His victims had become quite emotional over it.

"So," he said eventually, "any plans? Am I to go to my eternal reward in Heaven?"

DO YOU THINK YOU DESERVE IT?

"Well, yes," Carcer said, chuckling at the question. Vimes would have said, "giggling". "I've been persecuted all my life - you know, my first crime was stealing a loaf of bread? Ever since then..." He sighed plaintively.

WHAT WOULD YOU PREFER TO DO?

"Oh, if I get a _choice_..." Carcer cocked his head on one side. "I'll stay here and wait for old Vimesy."

THAT COULD BE A LONG WHILE.

"True, true. Don't you worry, I'll find something for me to do."

SO WILL I.

"Eh?"

Carcer Dun was not accustomed to feeling a slight chill down the back of his spine. He was, in fact, usually the cause of it in other people. But as he turned to look at Death, and found instead a watchman, he was conscious of a little concern. The watchman was chewing something, the remains of his dinner, perhaps, and he had one hand on his axe.

"Hello, mate," he said. "Do you feel lucky?"


End file.
